“Miss Julie trained the horse herself,” Padgett went on. “They have a horse breeding farm in Missouri, I believe. Very exceptional young ladies.”
“I reckon so,” Longarm said.
Padgett grinned. “And as you noticed, quite striking as well, and both unmarried. I’ll introduce you to them.”
That was exactly what Longarm wanted. He nodded to the senator and said, “Thanks. I’d like that.”
Padgett led the way down onto the concourse and over to the spot where the blood bay was blowing heavily. The horse’s rider, who wore a green shirt and white pants, had already slipped down from the saddle and was stroking the bay’s flanks. The young man looked back over his shoulder nervously as he saw Padgett coming.
“I’m sorry, Senator,” he said quickly before Padgett could say anything. “I did the best I could. We were just packed in there too tight.”
“I understand, Cy,” Padgett said. “Don’t worry about it. You did fine.”
The rider looked surprised. “Are you sure? I mean, I know how much you wanted to win, Senator.”
Padgett answered with a casual wave of a hand. “Don’t give it another thought. Just ride a good race next time.”
Cy bobbed his head. “Yes, sir. I sure will, you can count on that.”
Longarm wondered if the boy was in for a bawling out later in private. Cy had certainly looked like he expected Padgett to be angry with him for not winning. Longarm recalled that Padgett had been elected to the Senate on his first run at public office, and he had successfully staved off every challenger since then. Padgett was a man accustomed to winning, and winning big. Losing even something like a horse race probably galled him.
Padgett turned to Longarm and said, “Come along, Marshal. I want you to meet the Cassidy sisters now.”
Longarm wanted that too, so he followed Padgett without complaint. They strode over to the spot where the two blondes were still fussing over their horse.
“Congratulations, ladies,” Padgett said to them. “Matador ran a gallant race.”
“He should have won,” Julie Cassidy said.
“Perhaps next time he will,” Janice added. Again she smiled at Longarm. “Who’s your handsome friend, Senator?”
Padgett chuckled. “I brought him over here to introduce him to you, but perhaps I shouldn’t, Miss Janice. You never flirt with me like that.”
Janice Cassidy turned her dazzling smile on him. “Why, I do so!” she said as she lifted a gloved hand to the senator’s cheek. “I flirt shamelessly with you every time I see you, you old dear.”
Padgett basked in the glow of her attention for a second, then somewhat grudgingly said, “This is Custis Long. He’s a United States deputy marshal from the Denver office.”
“A deputy marshal!” Janice exclaimed. “How exciting.”
“It’s just another job, ma’am,” Longarm told her as he took the hand she extended to him. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to kiss the back of it or not, but since he didn’t often go in for such fancy greetings, he just shook it instead.
There was no question that was what Julie Cassidy expected. She shook hands forthrightly, like a man, and her grip was strong and firm. “Pleased to meet you, Marshal,” she said.
Julie turned back to the chestnut stallion and issued orders for him to be taken back to the paddock and rubbed down properly. In the meantime, Janice sidled closer to Longarm and linked her arm with his without being invited to do so. “I know I’m being quite bold, Marshal,” she said, “but would you like to have a drink with us in the clubhouse? I believe Matador’s strong finish calls for some champagne.”
Longarm had never cared much for French bubbly water, but he wasn’t in the habit of turning down invitations from women as beautiful—and friendly—as Janice Cassidy. “I’d be pleased and honored to join you, ma’am,” he said.
“Come along then.” Janice looked over at Padgett. “You’ll join us too, won’t you, Senator?”
“Of course,” replied Padgett. “You’re a lucky man, Marshal. Miss Janice seems to have taken a shine to you.”
“Go on with you!” Janice said to him. “Why, Marshal Long and I are just friends. Isn’t that right, Marshal?”
“Whatever you say, ma’am.” Longarm hoped the grin on his face didn’t look too self-satisfied. Janice was overdoing the flirtatiousness, of course, but that seemed to be her personality. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her to stop.
They started strolling toward the clubhouse at the other end of the grandstands. Senator Padgett and Julie Cassidy followed behind them, trailed by Leon Mercer. Janice leaned her head closer to Longarm’s and asked in a low voice so that the others couldn’t overhear, “Did Senator Padgett tell you my sister and I have a horse farm in Missouri?”
“Yes, ma’am, I believe he mentioned that,” Longarm replied.
“Well, you’re going to have to visit us there sometime, Marshal. We’d love to have you.” Janice’s voice became even huskier as she went on. “You see, my sister and I do everything together, if you know what I mean, even entertaining company. I’m sure you’d never forget a visit to our place.”
There was no mistaking the meaning in her voice and in her eyes. Longarm had to swallow hard before he could say, “No, ma’am, I don’t imagine I would.”
He wasn’t sure what he had expected to find at the racetrack today … but the Cassidy sisters certainly weren’t it!
Chapter 3
Jim Harrelson lifted the flask to his lips and took a long swig of the whiskey inside it. The liquor made his insides glow warmly all the way down, and then lit a fire in his belly. Damn Custis Long anyway.
Longarm was a good lawman, there was no doubt about that. If he hadn’t been along on that raid the night before, Nowlan might have gotten away. Those oh-so-valuable printing plates might not have been recovered. But that didn’t give Longarm any right to act like he was the chief marshal or something, giving orders about no drinking. He was just a badge-toter for Uncle Sam, like the rest of them.
Harrelson capped the flask, stowed it away inside his coat, and stepped out of the little room down the hall from the room where Bud Seeley and Horace Truelove were playing cards as they stood guard over the plates. This hotel was the only one in Albuquerque with that newfangled indoor plumbing, and Harrelson was thankful for it. Stepping just down the hall for a quick trip was a lot easier than having to pay a visit to the outhouse behind the hotel. Smelled better too.
Bud and Horace probably thought he had the trots, he told himself with a chuckle as he walked down the deserted hall, his steps only a trifle unsteady. He had gone down the hall quite a few times this afternoon.
But he had a right! Hell, Longarm had ducked out and gone to a horse race, of all things! If Longarm was out enjoying himself, then there was nothing wrong with him having a drink or two—or six—Harrelson thought.
A man appeared at the far end of the second-floor corridor, at the head of the staircase. Harrelson didn’t pay much attention to him, even though the man started along the hallway toward him. They were going to pass each other just before Harrelson reached the door to the room shared by the other two deputies.
The man stopped, however, and asked, “Do you know where Room Seven is, pard?”
Harrelson still only glanced at the gent, seeing a man in well-kept range clothes. The lawman half-turned and gestured with his thumb toward a door down the hall. “Down there,” he grunted.
Suddenly, before he could turn back, an arm shot around his neck and a hand on his shoulder gave him a rough shove. He was jerked around so that the man who had stopped him was behind him. Harrelson tried to open his mouth to yell, but an inexorable pressure forced his chin up, keeping his lips closed and drawing his neck tight. Something that was cold and hot at the same time slid across the front of his throat. A warm, sticky flood splashed onto his chest, and he heard a horrible gurgling sound that he knew somehow was coming from him, even though his mouth was still closed.